


It require her...just like he does.

by A_D_P



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Ron Weasley, BASICALLY EVERYONE CARE FOR Severus Snape NO MATTER IF THEY KNOW IT OR NOT, Broken hermione, Can I redeem Lucius or is he still an intolerable cruel asshole?, Draco could be worse but Hermione needs people who know more than her about Severus Snape, Eventual Smut, Everyone got issues, F/M, Filius Flitwick is a good teacher who care, Good Albus Dumbledore, Hagrid give good advices, Hagrid is a goof friend, Harry is not so obvious, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hermione Granger is So Done, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Hogwarts ghosts are friendly and disposed to help, Hogwarts is a darling matchmaker/friendmaker, I Don't Even Know, I just adore the characters...so I will borrow them for a few chapters, Let's write a lot of hugs!, McGonnagall knows things we don't, My First Work in This Fandom, No one should mess with a pissed Hermione if they don't have a death wish, Not everything in life goes according to plans..., Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Poppy Pumfrey is a sweetheart, Portrait Albus Dumbledore - Freeform, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Probably some Marauder bashing?, Ron understand nothing as usual, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape Lives, Severus Snape Needs a Hug, Severus Snape needs a friend, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Room of Requirement ship it!, The castle have its own idea about what should have happened, This is why he think he can't have nice things...she disagree., Unrepentant Fluff, Who need a Time-Turner to time travel? Not her!, Young Severus Snape, sorry for the mistakes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24686818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_D_P/pseuds/A_D_P
Summary: After the war, Hermione Granger goes on a separate way from her best friends, who both train to become Auros, and return to Hogwarts alone to help rebuilt the castle. It is now her only home, but Hogwarts and it's people are still full of secrets, some of them ready to be shared...while other are waiting to be created.With Severus Snape still in a magical coma after barely surviving Nagini's bite, McGonagall assuming the Headmistress role permanently and Albus' portrait understanding that he could stop meddling with people so much, many things had changed... And for once in her scholarly path, Hermione is unprepared for the turn of event: the room of requirement require her…just as someone else from the past does to access a brighter future.They just don't know it.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 31
Kudos: 57





	1. Craving normality when the world will never be the same again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lucyole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucyole/gifts), [LadySeraphina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySeraphina/gifts).



> I should be working on something else, I know, but I couldn't let this story go to waste! I just discovered this Fandom again and I'm crazy about it!

Hermione Granger had known that coming back to help repair the damages caused by the war to Hogwarts before becoming a student once more was going to be strange. Coming back without the rest of the not so Golden Trio anymore was going to be disturbing. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been a world in themselves, and coping with the separation of their ways was sounding awfully like a definitive farewell on some unfinished, broken, sorry note. After years of trying not to get one of them expelled, tortured or killed and learning as much as humanly possible for a bookwarm-ish know-it-all, it was weird, unrealistic even, to be allowed to breathe, to break down while trying to heal in the only place she could finally see herself be…without finding the peace she had always knows the castle ground to have. 

Good Godrick, coming back there knowing she had nowhere to go and call home since she had obliviated her parents was hard enough by itself. As if it was not enough, the Gryffindor had to sniffle back her cries each time she was remembered that she, like every survivor of the war's horrors, had lost someone in each corner of what was left of Hogwarts. And since the fonctionnal hospital wing--which had surprisingly not suffer a lot from the final battle--was full of recovering and traumatized student and staff members alike, Hermione tried to concentrate her thoughts and attention on those still alive each time a shiver danced her spine while some wailing sound was trying to escape her lips, instead of incessantly grieve her loss. It was the best way she knew how to cope with everything without help... mentally remembering herself about encouraging facts. She was the Brain of the Golden Trio. She was a Gryffindor...But she still felt broken, and weak, and alone. 

Sure, all the teachers knew and welcomed her with open arms, giving her a small room to call hers, inviting the girl to share their meals and allowing her an unlimited access to what was left of the library. It had been helpful, really, it has been! Just like the spontaneous gesture of taking wild flowers to Professor Snape's hospital room and thanking the unconscious man for everything he had done had been...

But nothing could erase the phantom pain of the word Mudblood carved on her arm, nothing could make things, people and places look one-hundred percent safe anymore, nothing could really out her need for silence most of the time. Sometimes, her magic would reach out in uncontrollable ways, strong, powerful intuitive and untamed and the curly haired witch would feel lost. Gryffindor bravery could only do so much, after all…Going back to Gringotts without being Polyjuiced as Bellatrix Lestrange had been hard and left her uneasy too. She felt like a bad quality leaf of mandrake in a batch of poorly brewed Amortencia potion: out of place. 

How one who craved, if not normality, but at least safety and peace, could find it in a destroyed world trying to heal enough to be reborn again? It was the question that was haunting many survivors of that goddamned war, and Hermione was aware of how impossible it would be for her to go back to the person she was before everything. More than ever, the young woman still wanted to visit Hagrid for tea and go to Hogsmeath during the weekend, just to get a taste of normality again...but it would change nothing. No wish, no spell and no denying could give her back what she had lost or take what she had managed to keep...

So she was seeing the Thestrals now, on her way to go to Hagrid’s hut to share a tea with her half-giant friend, helping him with any magical creature he was offering assistance to. It was weird to call the teachers by their given names when they asked, but the point had gotten accross: they had been equals in fighting, so let them be the same after everything. It was a respect shared and owned, a proof that she had proved her value...and was still doing so by staying to take care of the ruins left by the stupidiy of wizardkind. 

Her nights were short, nightmarish, and deep fortifying sleep was a luxury she did not know if she would get back one day. Somehow, it was as if parts of her world had turned upside down and petrified to never return to their original state. So what happened next should have not been a real surprise...

***

Hermione was a logical person who liked to make sense of what was happening around her. Well, as much sense as she could anyway. And at the moment? She needed something tangible, real, concrete in her life to make real sense, not another mystery made of ink, paper and pure unaltered magic appearing on her nightstand with the first ray of sunshine of a normal day…

Unable to sleep anymore, the young woman had witnessed the piece of parchment’s arrival in her room, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Floating letters were unheard of, even in this part of the magical world. Flying keys and broomsticks? Sure. Howlers who self-destroyed themselves after delivery, yes it was normal without a doubt. But flying parchment in a letter-like format? This was either a dream, a trap, or a new way to communicate that she never had been told about. 

Frowning in concentration, Hermione took hold of her wand. Before even thinking about touching it, she ran ten different types of diagnostic spells she knew of. Apparently, there was nothing damaging, wicked or bound to hexe her into the letter, so she took the mysterious message in her hands to take a closer look.The parchment, soft and vibrant with magic under her fingers, was a refine creamy colour, the black scrip composing her name as elegant as the message was sure to be a cryptic affair.

Normally, messages were arriving by owl, be it one of the school’s or one of her friends'. The invitation currently intriguing her had not.

Normally, she was aware that there was something coming for her, considering that the only one who were writing to her were Harry, Ginny and Ron when they had time. But the sudden arrival of the formal letter-like message was not signed. 

Normally, invitations were given to people who had other people to invite them somewhere. But since it was not one of her friends’ writing, and that this was not about a meeting with a teacher—otherwise, the invitation would have told her who was it from and to which office she needed to go—she couldn’t tell what it was all about without reading it completely, so she did. 

To her own surprise, in Hermione Granger’s case, despite the fact that none of those conditions were met, there was a proper invitation to her name, kindly asking her if she could come to the Room of Requirement as fast as possible. It was written in an elegant old cursive with a quill and what appeared to be golden and silvery ink. 


	2. Why not the library? (or Required or requiring?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hermione have questions, she goes to her teachers; this will never change. But what happens when even her talk with Headmistress McGonagall don't answer all of her questions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with that chapter, but I did this instead of sleeping, so yeah...

Hermione didn’t allow herself to waste time and took upon herself to make her way to Headmistress McGonagall’s office straight after getting dressed. If anyone was able to answer her questions, it would be the older witch. Minerva had always been as much as a mentor as a strict motherly figure for her cubs and the young woman knew to what extent she could trust the Headmistress with anything and everything. Plus, since the scottish witch was the most attuned to the castle’s mood, perhaps that she could see if similar events had happened around. Her invitation in hands, Hermione made sure she had her wand and took off, half lost in thoughts. 

Surprisingly, the stairs cooperated remarkably well, and dropped her to the right floor faster than usual. And she was not sure how or why, but it took her a ridiculously short amount of time to walk to her destination. Somehow, it was as thought Hogwarts wanted her to seek the older witch’s opinion on what was happening, to have the answers to the wave of questions dancing in her mind. It was almost as if shortcuts were appearing out of nowhere, and Hermione was not sure what to think about it. The staff nor then the other students helping around had mentioned anything similar in the last few days, so what was it about that morning, that meeting, that was so special?

Curiosity had not thrummed in her veins for a while now, and when she arrived to Minerva’s office, she felt sightly disoriented. Not just because of the letter, but because she could have sweared she had heard the castle’s magic humming in pleasure when she knocked at the Headmistress’ door. Shaking her head as she entered, she greeted her mentor with a small smile and agreed to sit down for the first comforting tea of the day when the Headmistress proposed it. 

" So, what brings you in my office first thing in the morning, Hermione? Are you well? Is everything all right?"

Once reassured that one of her favorite cub was alright and comfortably installed in front of her with a cup of tea, Minerva let Hermione tell her about how the letter arrived, what spells were used and her shortened walk to her office before taking a closer look to the anomaly of the day and told Hermione what she knew, a secret and almost feline expressing of contentment on her features. 

« You must know that the castle is sentient, interacting with us, always. While its magic had been greatly affected by the battle, it is still strong, mischievous and determinate to restore itself with our help. I must say that luckily for us, this old magic is not easily defeated... and it apparently took upon itself to help with the organisation. It decided to assign some people to the reconstruction areas where it see fit. Your invitation is to the Room of Requirement, I see… » 

Taking a sip of her tea, Minerva let the younger witch digest the information she just shared while the curly woman tried to make sense of the fact that the castle, who seems to be more bossy and friendly than she previously thought, basically gave her an unknown mission...

« But why there? » 

Minerva heard the unsaid « Why not the library? ». She had the pressentiment that the castle was up to something and that the laugh threatening to bubble out of her was not hers…Well, if Hogwarts was to do meddle positively with her courageous brillant cub, who was she to interfere? She owned her employment and safety to the trusty meddling building and was hopeful that the school could help Hermione back on her feet, so she tried to be encouraging. 

« It is a very significative place it choose to attribute you, but I trust you’ll know what to do with it, Hermione. Think about it, give it a try and you’ll see. If anything happen, just keep me updated, yes?»

Thanking the older witch before finishing her cup of tea, Hermione closed to door behind her and made her way to the room waiting for her, not seeing the look her Headmistress and the portrait of Dumbledore exchanged behind her back. 

Well, now the Gryffindor had a few answers to her questions…but it did not mean she had no more questions to answer, the first of the flock of her new one being « If the castle is giving me a task related to a very significative place, why not in the library? » There were places she was immensely glad the castle had not decided to send her on a whim; the greenhouses, for example, for she was pant at growing plants…but her charm and transfiguration’s abilities could have been employed somewhere else in the castle, she pondered. Books were her first love, her first contact with the magical world, so why not the library where she had studied so hard, found answers and questions, satisfied her undying curiosity and prevented catastrophes and dunderheadry? 

The Room of Requirement was supposed to answer to a student’s deepest need or sincere heart’s desire, so why was her presence required there? But again…she didn’t need anything that the room could offer her. Sure, she would not refuse a comfortable solitary place to dive into a rare book with a hot chocolate and soft music, but she already had a safe heaven into her own new room…and the invitation, that she cautiously read again, had invited her in without explanations, promises or any kind of offer, the room had not appeared in front of her just like that! So why inviting her there, then, if she had no need for the room herself? Could it be… because it was the other way around? Was it because she had been part of Dumbledore’s army? Because the room needed reparations or updates? It didn’t make any sense. She was a powerful witch, she knew it, but this room was made of pure unaltered old magic, Founders’ magic, for Merlin’s sake! It didn’t make sense, it was not her place to tamper with this kind of power, Brightest Witch of her Age or not! Having the opportunity to study it would be awesome, but it was the most she could hope for…

When she arrived in front of the tapestry covering the Room of Requirement, she felt shivers dance along her spine and when a door formed itself under her eyes, without knowing why, she felt compelled to quietly whispered to it: « I don’t know why I’m here, or what you expect from me…but since I can be no where else, I’ll try…I’ll…do my best, I guess. » before carefully opening it, her curiosity and Gryffindor courage pushing her to step in...Causing the castle to breath in contentment once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what do you think?  
> I hope you enjoyed it, but even if it's not the case, I'll gladly read your comments, so leave a review if you want!


	3. The book of needs (or how to dive into one self)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione is now into the Room of Requirement, hoping to find answers. Magical and enchanted objects will find her first. Answers will find her first. Both are unexpected. Can they help her to dive deep enough to understand?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short new chapter, but fear not, I'll make sure to either make the next one longer or post another one in the next few hours.

The door did not even squeaked when she entered, and the steady room’s atmosphere was not exactly as she remembered it. It was unexpected; still pulsating with energy, making shivers dance along her spine, but it was also giving her a strange sense of calm. The kind of feelings that had eluded her since the war. One she had not know how to find anymore, only knowing that she needed it. Perhaps that it was because of the light smell of chamomile and lavender essence, ink, parchment and pine permitting the air, but she did not really care: it was a blissful heaven if she ever saw one. 

Instead of the disorganized clatter she was sure she’d find there, with piles of various discarted objects squeezed into a creepy dusty mess, the walls were bare, safe for a fireplace warming the room with flames alterning colours from a warm and inviting natural orange to blue like the ones she had produced so many time while on the run. The young woman gratefully welcomed the magical source of heat; since her return to the only place she had left now, she was always cold. It was as if Hermione’s body was not sure how to produce body heat anymore…and apparently, the Room of Requirement knew it. Just like it had taken the liberty to equip the space with big windows permitting the daylight from outside to enter, probably sensing that if she had to face cold stonewall from side to side, she would go mad. The castle was taking care of its guests admirably, but the Gryffindor still wasn’t sure why she was there and what she would be asked to do, except acknowledging that, to the center of the room, her eyes were drawn to a comfortable chair near a small desk. 

As she approached, hoping the furniture could give her at least a little cue, she realized that on it sat a neatly folded fluffy blanket. When she reached out to touch it carefully, it sprang to life, unfolding itself to wrap gently around her arms, shoulders and back before her fingers could even touch it. Curiously, she felt safe enough not to panic as she found herself magically wrapped up into a soft fabric from front and behind simultaneously. In fact, it made her laugh a little. To her, the castle’s magic was comforting like a lullaby, and as of late, a little funny especially since she had received the letter. 

The way the tick fabric sheltering her from the cold had reacted to her proximity only made her even more curious than she already was and she felt her eyes be drawn to the nearest part of the room, where a medium size library containing only one book was waiting for her. She smiled a little thinking about how the piece of paper and knowledge was the most commun feature of the room… Well, she thought, at least the first thing to do was clear. Hermione sat down and grabed the book, finding it light, to inspect it lovingly with both curious eyes and fingers. Its spine was sporting no tittle just like the cover, which colour the Gryffindor was disturbingly unable to name precisely. It was as if she almost knew the answer, but that each time she was trying to precise it in her head, the traitorous ghost of much needed information was fleeing, letting her to chase after it. Easily opening the mysterious tome, the young witch found soft blank pages and frown. Biting down her lips, she found the first page and wondered for a moment if asking the book what purpose it was serving could be useful. 

The book must have taken her thoughts and mood as its cue to serve its purpose, because it began to glow a soft inviting shade of gold, pages shivering once, then twice, illumining the cover with a tittle: in libro de necessitate. The inscription in latin confused her a little: what was a book of needs? Sure, the Room of Requirements was reacting, answering to needs, but what in Merlin's name could it use a book for? she wondered. As soon as Hermione silently took in the change, the book glowed with a silvery light, spreading warmth along her hands and forearms. Then the pages fluttered like wings before coming to a stop, presenting to the witch the first page for the second time. There, in silver and golden letters, the witch found another inscription: "dive abyssi in te ut responsiones invenire quia non scitis quod vero ad iter tuum sanitatem"... Translating as fast as she could, Hermione frown again. Sweet Circe, what was that enigma? Sure "Dive deep within yourself to find answers because only you know the true path for your own healing" was clearly hinting at introspection, meditation or some sort of visualization, but it was still enigmatic as hell! Taking her head in her hands, she held her breath and, not afraid to look foolish in the slightest, silently asked the book for more details.

It obliged with the apparition of what could have been a spell if there was more indications than the simple words in latin: "vota in altissimis" *...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I end up on cliffhanger...I'd like to be sorry, but it's funnier this way, don't you think? ;) Apparently, the author in my brain like to tease its readers, hahaha. 
> 
> Thanks Google translate for spells and sentences in Latin!
> 
> * meaning "deepest wishes within"...


	4. Swallowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Book of Needs reveal its purpose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I promised I longer next chapter, but I had to separate this part...and what's coming next! 
> 
> I'm not sure if it really is a longer one, but I guess that since inspiration is still coming like a flowing river after the rain, I have chosen to publish this chapter and to concentrate next to what will happen next.

Hermione had not needed to speak the words aloud or to do any wand-waving; the moment she read the words for herself, she felt sucked into the book just like she would have been if using a pensive. It was like being painlessly apparated to an unknown destination; it took her by surprise. And even more when she felt the magic carefully deposing her into a very unfamiliar environment…it was more of a setting of darkening colours, a vague blur, really. In fact, the only thing the Gryffindor could do was to float into what seems to be like a sea of feelings hitting her in waves.

At first, it was not so bad…there was a tad of exasperation, a deceived little voice whispering « not again » in her head, the colours around her shifting and becoming a little darker…A feeling she knew she could easily distract herself from by thinking about the feel of a simply comfortable old pair of denim jeans on her skin, the library’s heavenly scent, the smooth sound of falling rain… 

But then, a thick, disgusting feeling made the hairs on her body stand on end oddly. It was the same one she had when she felt too many eyes on her, along with hurtful comments and small acts of bullying. Her heart rate picked up and she became nervous, as if facing a threat or a menacing opponent, only to be snaked upon by the feeling of being helpless, powerless. And it was having an hold powerful enough on her psyche to gutt her, steawing along with the impression that seeing red was not an expression strong enough do justice to the anger boiling inside her as betrayal came out to play. It was all mixed with self-doubt and cold hanger like the ingredient for an explosive shattering potions that she was ho so familiar with… making the colours around her darken.

Desperately searching for some way to warn off those awful feelings, she tried to go back to how she was feeling before all the craziness of the War began, before the void eating at her had began to grow…When she just had to warmly hug Ron or Harry to feel better, when it was still enough to contempt them both. When they were still able to have a good laugh and a few deep conversations equally laced with clever remarks and silly jokes. She tried very hard to find back those feelings, to let them warm her, shield her heart and soul from the conviction that no one was going to hold her like that again, ever. That her imagination was the only place in which she would have both companionship and brillant conversations and debates. That she was so disgusting and alone that she would do anything to stop it. Outside the room, outside the book, she had friends, teachers backing her…but who would have her back in such a place? Sure, some of the staff would be worried if she was to disappear, but who would know where she was, and more importantly, how to take her away from the sinister place trying to drown her? Who would know where she was trapped and find a way inside this poisoned wonderland keeping her there, in a hell where her demons were too strong to be reasoned with? No one, was the logical answer she came up with. 

Alone. 

For the first time in years she was truly alone. An horific sense of dread filled her as she arrived to that dangerous conclusion, heart beating so fast in despair that she was not sure she was going to survive its beat, and a tick fog came out of nowhere, circling her magic, swallowing Hermione’s body, keeping it deeper into the bubble of negative feelings trying to drown her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she understood that no one would come for her there and that no matter matter how many time she was going to repeat positive motivational mantras and wreck her brain trying to find a solution as fast as possible, nothing was going to change until the magic and the world had had its wicked way with her. Hadn’t she bleed enough? Hadn’t she hurt and by hurt by people enough? If not, what amount of suffering would it takes for her mistakes, doubts and existence to atone enough to get out of there? 

Her infamous Gryffindor’s bravery was nowhere to be found: she was not strong enough, not bright enough. She was bone-deep exhausted, tired of resisting, of fighting. The girl wanted to faint, to lose her loudly screaming conscience, to make it all stop. A wail escaped her lips as she tried to find a way out of the now completely black space, but it did not stop the next wave to hit her with a dreaded, devastating loneliness. It was akin to a knife located itself under her skin, like a coiling venomous snake; striking her own heart with hatred. More tears rolled on her cheeks as she identified how laced with a sadness hidden from the rest of the world, those angry thoughts came with. But somehow, she wanted to lash out and to still reach out to someone specific who would not laugh at her, ridiculise her needs or ideas and dreams in equal measure, confused as to what would be less damaging. Her magic was tingling in warning: she was about to lose control of herself. Frankly, at the moment, she didn’t care. The feelings caging her enough to make breathing almost impossible, crushing her were only slightly a little less excruciatingly painful than Bellatrix Lestrange’s crutiatus curse. Just like when under that blasted piece of dark magic, Hermione Granger had no choice. 

Going forward into the suffering experience her life had become was the only solution, for she could not go back to the time before the war: the sweet taste of Honeyduck chocolate and butterbear were symbols of Hogsmeath weekends and teenage crush no longer were on her tongue after all this time, all the horrors she saw. Instead, regret and fear souring her meals into ashes, transformed them into blend, unsavoury and disgusting flavoured mess. She found blood and gore in her dreams, not even always sure when she was asleep and when she was awake. After each traumatizing nightmare, the girl was chastising herself for the way she should have made sure that Professor Snape was okay when he was coming back from being summoned by Voldemort through the years. It’s not as if the Order’s spy would have let her, but at least, she could have thank him for everything he had done to save the life of the Golden Trio, no matter the cost for himself. The Golden Trio that had parted ways as if it was nothing, just one more thing to suffer through to finally get a more balanced, peaceful life…when in truth, almost everything between them had been all battled, broken and shattered for a while. Hermione, know-it-all to boots had not been smart, strong or even clever enough to prevent anything, to change more things for the better with either a flick of her wand or a wandless display of magic. There were so many ruines to repair, and she not lived up to the needs. Her own were running too deep. 

Long gone was the blessed simple time when « How many times a year have I to cast Reparo on Harry’s glasses? » was the only question she had to ask herself instead of worrying sick over the quality of dittany she had with her in case of an emergency and how many doses of Dreamless sleep draught she had in one week. The time when it was simply a question of how to pronounce Wingardium Leviosa instead of trying to dodge Dolohov’s curse, when hunger was not a feeling she had to approached liked a companion during her time on the run, when her t-shirts were still exposing her arms without the girl counting on a glamour or two to cover up her scars. Before she had to see so many people suffer and die… A pounding headache screamed and drilled insults into her skull.

Already so very tired, Hermione didn’t find the strength to fight the next wave, no matter how scarily powerful she instinctively knew it to be. What was coming for her….It was pure madness, heartbreaking, soul shattering and hope crushing desperation, so much more than just a tick sadness…It was so similar to the one she had felt when she had dreamed for the first time about an alternative way to the day of Hogwarts battle, one in which she had been sure that Harry would really be the boy who lived, in which Ron had gone alone to the chamber of secret to take care of the last inanimate orcrux with a basilisk fang while she had gone back in time to the Shrieking Shack to appease her guilty mind, to stay by the master of potion’s side a little while longer before going back to the castle so that, with her own hands and whatever spells and potions she had been able to give him…would be more than enough to know for sure that the man who had protected them, suffered the highest price to shield them more than once, would survive. After that dream, she had vomited, cried and curled up in a tight ball of regretful mess before rocking herself until morning.

Hermione had not known a thing about Severus Snape. Sure, his Professor Snape persona, she knew of…But from what she had understood while listening to Minerva and Poppy, from the moment he had come to Hogwarts, the young Slytherin boy had been very alone, hurt from all the sides and had, as a teenage boy, made one lethal bad choice leading him to always dance on a very thin line between two different kind of damnations and death. Perhaps internally on the same blink of insanity that she was at the moment…but Severus Snape, pessimist, dour, who had been so sure not to survive Nagini’s attack was still alive on a bed in the hospital wings…so why was she still there, waiting for an end to her suffering when she could try again to get out? He had done it…so she could at least try to be the annoyingly successful student he had known her to be and push herself out of the darkness into daylight. Freeing herself was not going to be easy, but what in life truly worth the work was? Obliviating her parents had been the hardest thing she had ever done, but it had kept them safe and sound. Trying to calm Harry and Ron after their nightmares on top of seeing to her own had been anything but simple or easy, but she had done it because her boys needed her. Walking into the castle to help repair it and seeing empty seats in the Grand Hall, blood on the stonewalls and hurt magical creatures had not left her intact either. But she had done it and would do it again if it was able to get her out of the magical hell the book had conjured for her. 

Suddenly, she felt her magic reach out and powerfully eject her from the book in an explosion of translucent blue-ish light. As the confused girl found herself sited back on her chair in the Room of Requirement, finally able to breath again, eyes not adjusting well to the return of the powerful afternoon sun, she saw her playful otter patronus dance around her once, twice…before taking off to who knew where, letting her there, panting, raw and torn between worry, curiosity and tears. After a few calming breathe, the Gryffindor surprised herself: analyzing both her body, mind and magic, she found the beginning of an unexpected emotion...Somehow, she strangely feel a little better than before opening the book: Hermione Granger had, once again, not only too many questions, but enough reserves of curiosity to want to ask them, to genuinely welcome the answers with open arms. 

For now, eyes closing by themselves since she was exhausted, she instantly fell asleep. Sensing her state, her chair became a bed with a big pile of fluffy pillows and the covers wrapped themselves around her sleeping form. The Room of Requirement's magic enveloped the courageous girl, guiding her through what some inexperimented wizards and witches would call the land of dreams...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll probably be mixing the post-war present and the past from the next chapter on... I hope you're ready!


	5. An-otter path to healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first meeting between eleven years old Severus Snape...and a part of Hermione.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it took me time to publish, but here is the next chapter! I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much I did enjoy writing it!

Eleven years old Severus Snape was not one boy to believe in either guardian angel nor than in miracles. So when he came to Hogwarts for the first time, wand hand clutching the ebony wood of one of his greatest treasure in his hands, Severus was awed by the Wizarding School. Grateful for the vast amount of food in the Great Hall and for the confort of his four poster bed in the dorm, curious about the size of the Library his mother had described to him, but fearful and scared of what was going to happen back in Cokeworth while his mother was alone with her husband, he wondered which price he had to pay later for this tidbit of freedom and safety far away from his abusive father and so very close to master that part of him that his mother had called magic. And with Lily too…

But the young boy was not naive: for so many good things, there was a debt to be paid, just like with everything else. For being alive and magic, his father’s price was a good beating. For his wand and books, his mother’s hunger for the day was the price. For Lily’s friendship, secrecy and discretion were the price, even more so when he got sorted in Slytherin…and very early during his first year, he found out that being in a different house from his only friend and becoming the favorite victim of both the Marauders and a few malevolent Slytherin because of his blood status, disgracious features and hand me down robes were other prices to pay for being there, walking among the students he didn’t know nor than want to interact with. And why would he? He still was a freak in the eyes of others…just a conveniently brilliant one, good enough to be kept around, but not without bullying, so defensive and privacy spells were the first thing he learned and created. It was not the case the first day, but within the first week, Severus had made his own researches, determinate to use every trick and tool at his disposition, pouring all of himself into both his studies and means of protection.

Late at night and whenever he had a little time, the boy would peruse the library, helped by a few well placed Accio spells to silently call whatever book he needed to him. This particular piece of magic had been learned by him once Madam Pince, the stern but observant responsable of the library, had seen how often he was coming there, always silent, always taking care of the precious content of the shelves and never bringing food, trying to sneak it past her like some younger foolish new students were doing. The boy was very careful to treat her beloved books well, lovingly casting gentle Reparo and Scourgify on well-used tomes when needed, and it had prompted her to help him be at home in a little corner of the library. Her domaine was big enough to be shared with one more careful book-lover. And so, Severus knowing how welcome he was there, made the room his safe heaven. No one would risk curse him there under Madam Pince’s watch. The worst that could happen would be a note or a few whispered threats, some name calling at worst. Of course, it was only until the dunderheads would learn wandless and wordless magic, but it was not likely to be so soon, so he tried not to worry too much…especially when Lily was sitting with him. Everyone loved Lily and no one wanted to hurt her, so when he was with her, just like since the very beginning of their friendship, he was safe, he was happy and grateful. But Lily was like a butterfly: always flying from flower to flower, often tired to stay inside for too long periods of time and so not in need to learn how to protect herself from attacks that were never coming her way…so more often than not, whenever he had time with her in the library, it was either short and followed quickly by a walk outside or because they needed to study for a test, which left him unable to make any progress with his researches. 

Luckily, he was progressing fast. Severus had been lucky enough to locate some books about creating charms that had helped him to create spells like Muffliato and his own version of a notice-me-not charm covering every sound he could make. « Compilation of useful jinx and hexes » had given him a good base of how to fend for himself better. Professor Flitwick had also been helpful, suggesting that he could do well in the Duelling Club after seing Severus’ selection of books, and Madam Pomfrey, seeing how the black haired Slytherin was often covered in bumps and bruises, but never requiring any treatment from anyone, had gently suggested him to read « The Art of Magical Healing: guide to healing spells and potions for beginner » to him. He could also find an ally in the older Slytherin and prefect Lucius Malfoy, who had shown him respect and politeness for his intellect and capacities…

But somehow, he should have understood that he was being naive by believing that it would be enough to keep him safe. Whatever luck had been bestowed to him was never meant to last very long and the day Severus experimented to fall out of it had not been a pretty one. In fact, it was as thought there was a wizarding prophetic Murphy’s law waiting to it him like a bludger brutally persecuting him. 

That day, Lily had not shown up at their meeting spot, but Severus was not in the mood for research. Unable to concentrate, he felt tired and cold, no matter how many layers he had on. He must have been feverish…probably because he had been pushed in the black lake in the middle of a Scottish end of autumn weather the day before and had barely slept. And now he had a damned cold. Distracted and taunted by any of his peers all day, he had waited impatiently to go back to his safe place, only to find himself alone and distracted, miserable in a few more blankets that it was reasonable to be buried under, but he did not really care about it. All he could think about was that he would not have news of his mother until the Christmas holidays, and he was worried. Before going back to Spinner End, he wanted to pack her a small bundle of food: Salazar only knew what she had only been able to eat with Tobias Snape in a drunken state, but always insisting to have more and more alcool. And since the young man memorized by heart the content of « The Art of Magical Healing: guide to healing spells and potions for beginner » suggested by Madam Pomfrey, he could discreetly treat any injuries she might have…if his father was distracted enough and if they were not too severe. His already sore throat tightened. A tear fell on his cheek as he wondered how he could just hold on a little longer and not totally break down where he was. 

At that moment, something totally unexpected happened. A soft light gently caressed his arms and shoulders before settling on the table in front of him, taking a precise form. The shinny translucent...animal… (because the black haired boy was not sure if he should consider it a being or a spell!) was not a patronus. Severus had already read about them once or twice after a teacher mentioned it, getting him curious, so he knew that whatever it was, that was not it…for it was holding not one, but two magical signatures, his own magic whispered to him. And the silvery glow forming the body in front of him felt as river’s water, refreshing, soothing, welcoming and peaceful. 

The small ears mounting a small triangular face and agile little pebbled paws facing him were those of a female otter slowly approaching him in what could only be described as a curious wobbly gait. She really was beautiful with a gleaming fur, intelligent eyes and a quite expressive little chirping voice she demonstrated by squeaking in his direction, as if to call out to him. When she became close enough, looking as thought she would good naturally bump her nose on the closest finger she could reach, the cute creature simply looked at the boy in the eyes before gently settling her own paws near his hands. If Severus had been prone to indulge himself into thinking he could understand her like he could a human, he would have sworn that the little female was waiting for him to make a move, to give the aquatic mammal food, to pet it, or…or something. 

When he scoffed at the thought, the friendly creature approached closer. Close enough for the boy to feel her whiskers tickling him, breath warming his skin. What was the small animal doing there, looking as thought it was waiting for him of all people to do something? Maybe he could just…try to touch her? After all, at this point, if the apparition was one of the Marauder’s prank, he would have been mocked, hurt or ridiculized, bitten and scratched at best. The quatuor of foolish Gryffindor luckily were not one to go for torturing their victims with long sneaky waiting time to anticipate and fear before using an intelligent subtility to do their worse, they were unpleasant utter dunderheads, annoyingly stupid, immature, rude and crude, but that was all. Even Lupin, who was good at spells and transfiguration, would not have been able to create such an elaborate, pure magical being. Instead, the air around them was smelling like the sea and a weird otter-like thing was trying to establish contact with him…

Why him, though? Severus was not a violent person if he could help it, but he was still a nobody. What could such a beautiful something would seek him out, insisting on staying close until he did something? Sighing, he told himself that as this was probably a dream, the boy could at least reach out and see what would happen, screaming self-preserving Slytherin instincts be damned for once! So, taking a deep breathe, he allowed himself to try. Hands moving slowly, Severus was staying attentive to any change occurring, looking for anything indicating that he was either really wrong in his assumptions and would scare off his strange companion…or really right. When the Slytherin felt safe enough to risk extending his right hand to touch the engaging creature, he found that she was letting him. Calm eyes blinking slowly, the otter did not move, did not squeaked nor then hide, but instead stood there, waiting for his contact, as if it was a totally normal response. 

Severus almost jumped when he realized that the small animal was surprisingly corporal! Severus could feel the otter’s oily fur under his fingers as she pressed her nose to his wrist. The texture under his fingers was so similar to his greasy hair, but fluffier. Shorter and softer. Amazed albeit a little nervous, he noted how the tickling caress of the thin whiskers on his fingers when the cute little creature playfully nuzzled them before licking the spot gently was a little similar to the first inklings of accidental magic the two years old version of himself had experienced. Arching under his touch like a cat, the otter emited a cute little sound. It was almost comforting…a little bit like approval? As if sensing the doubts eating at the young Slytherin, the apparition closed her eyes, relaxing every muscles, her iridescent form shivering in what the insecure and confused Slytherin hoped was pleasure…

Severus was at a complete loss when she rolled on herself like a torpedo, presenting her belly to him and curving it around his hands, as if to entertwine her own body with him in an animal version of a hug, small intelligent eyes glowing like two small stars… Severus could feel it breathe, relaxe into him in a way he never experienced. No one would trust him this way with their body…no one would gently give him physical comfort like that… The otter, no matter what she was, truly was a gift…and the radiant smile who had tried to grace his lips disappeared when he realized how undeserving of it he was! A sharp jab of emotional pain in his chest remembered him that she was too beautiful, too pure, too special, to be there for him. 

As if instinctively sensing the change of mood, his little companion clumsily jumped on his chest and affectionately rubbed her head against his cheeks, licked his nose and bumped their foreheads together. As the tired, weak little laugh he let out did not seems to satisfy the otter enough, she pushed herself into his neck, stubbornly pushing and pulling at his layers to be in direct contact with his feverish skin. Not even taking the time to make a nest out of the fabrics, she plopped down gently, hiding under his hair, circling his neck like a little chirping scarf, her heartbeat pressed tightly against him. At that moment, Severus wished that his little cold could go away. Because as much as he wanted to enjoy the moment they were comfortably settling in, he felt the need to blow his nose and a shivers danced along his skinny frame. 

That is, until a glowing bright swirl of magic caressed his clammy skin and throat, gently soothing the unease caused by his cold. It was as if the steam of a hot curative herbal tea had taken upon itself to heal him. But instead of the hot drink, the lanky boy was being approached by a magical soft touch that felt almost like a combinaison of the playful summer wind whispering to him and the black lake’s waves… and what felt like gentle hands removing the sickness from him. It truly felt calming and humbling in a way he never knew he needed to be enveloped and surrounded by some kind of magical herbs and spices flavoured grounding, healing spell. Severus could taste them on his tongue: some of the smell he recognized as the magic danced in and out of his body like a warm breeze. Even if still confused and weak, the Slytherin’s brain was actively trying to comprehend what was happening. 

Being used to be around ingredients and plants, he recognized ginger and Iceland moss’ magical tastes for his sore throat running along his neck, along with peppermint to suppress cough. It caressed his cheekbones and temples, washing away his perspiration. The swirly magic invited itself in his lungs, curling and twirling until breathing became easier. Delicately, Severus felt the smooth caress of chamomile acting as a calming anti-inflammatory, curving once again around his head and torso, descending along his limbs and entering under his skin to create a feeling of well-being whom was leaving in his wake the taste of citrus, echinacea and elderberry to diminish the fever…with a small amount of honey. It caressed his cheekbones and temples, washing away his perspiration as though Severus had never been sick. 

How? Was all his brain could ask both in a mix of grateful awe, disbelief and a deep curiosity. How all of those flavours could blend, swirl and melt together into him this way, feeling like tidal waves, winds and attentionate hands-like touches erasing his cold, hunger and bad mood at the same time ? The flavours and feelings were, after all, not made to go so well together, for his sense of taste and smell were no flower fields and waves, wind and hands could never be associated all tighter to form something, it was not supposed te be even remotely magically possible! But surprisingly, the flavoured magic was making sense to more than his 5 senses, no matter how illogical it was sounding like. It was appeasing far more than just that. It was a breath-taking bout of heartfelt magic he had never experienced… and it was all coming from the beautiful otter still curled all around his neck, of that he was sure! Otherwise, he could not be seing the healing light coming from its agile lithe body and going back into it after… 

Closing his eyes not to let the magnificient creature see his tears, the boy let his lips curl up in a rare genuine smile and a heartfelt thank you he whispered. For the first time in forever, Severus Snape felt completely at peace. The blood running in his vein was like a calm river. He was not hungry… Tho boy felt alive. There were no longer any fever or need to hide himself behind his long lanky hair. No notion of price to pay, of what would happen next. In the here and now, Severus Snape could breathe, take off a few layers and just be…

It’s the moment his furry healer choose to lick his right cheek and slide down from his neck to his arm to the table, her glowing form slowly disappearing. Chirping one last time as the boy reached out to her for one last pet, eyes still wet, but no longer worried, one last thank you, she let time and space separate them again, letting behind a surprised albeit more peaceful Slytherin boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: how does the past fix the present if one self is in between?


End file.
